


couplet

by thewestwinged



Series: tea and coffee [2]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/F, and also a little bit stupid, but its really just these 2 girls being sweet and in love, isadora quagmire world class flirt, the summary makes this sound edgy, useless lesbians being useless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewestwinged/pseuds/thewestwinged
Summary: violet and isadora, in two scenes of verse.(isadora communicates best through poetry. violet prefers a more straightforward approach.)





	1. flowers

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to listen to 'stuck on you' by meiko while reading this, because it's Very them

These days, much of Violet’s time is spent lounging beneath the great maple in Monty’s backyard. Summer is around the corner, and the giant canopy of burgundy leaves provides ample protection from the sun’s glare. It’s warm, and quiet, a sharp contrast to the busy atmosphere of the house. A perfect place to sit and think.

Not that she’s alone. Isadora accompanies her out to the tree most days, scribbling away in her notebook as Violet plans out her inventions. If Isadora is ever a distraction, it’s a pleasant one. Sometimes she reads poems. Other times she looks over Violet’s shoulder at whatever contraption she’s sketching, soft curls tickling the skin on Violet’s neck. 

Today is a little colder than Violet had expected, and she finds herself shivering as the breeze flips the corners of her paper up off the ground. She should have brought a jacket, and she can very well go and retrieve one, except Olivia and Jacquelyn are attempting dinner inside and that is a cataclysm she doesn’t want to bother with. Cataclysm is a word that here means while Violet loves her aunts very much, last time they tried reheating cookies the microwave caught fire. But she digresses. 

“Violet,” Isadora says. She looks extraordinarily comfortable, a knit blanket draped over her shoulders. “You’ve got goosebumps.” Her tone is a mixture of amusement, admonishment, and concern. 

Violet shrugs, and then shivers again. “It’s not too bad.”

Isadora lifts the end of the blanket up, a shy smile blooming on her face. “Share with me,” she insists.

Violet doesn’t have to be told twice. She takes her sketchbook, scrambles to press against Isadora’s side. The blanket falls over her shoulder, and she sighs.

“Better?” Isadora asks.

“Yes, thank you.” Violet smiles her thanks. Isadora’s skin is warm against her bare arms. She smells like vanilla birthday cake shampoo. Something familiar and fluttery has made its home in Violet’s chest.

They continue with their respective projects. Sketching at a drip-catching mug, Violet takes a moment to practice her mindfulness. It’s harder to slip into negative thoughts when she focuses all of her energy on the present, the grass under her crossed legs, the scratching of Isadora’s pencil against the paper of her notebook. Sometimes she feels so lucky she could cry.

Violet tilts her head to the side, peeking at Isadora’s work. “Those are  _ beautiful, _ ” she says, tracing her finger over a flowering vine by the edge of the paper.

Isadora blushes a lovely pink. “ _ Violets are my favorite flower _ ,” she reads. “ _ I’d love to see one every hour. _ ”

“I don’t know how many violets grow around here,” Violet says. “But you have me.”

Isadora beams. For a second, they simply stare into each other's eyes. Then Isadora rests her head on Violet’s shoulder, continues to scribble away.

-

“So what happened after?” Klaus asks.

“Well,” Violet says. “Nothing, really. We just worked until Uncle Jacques called us in.”

Klaus squints, scrutinizing. “The girl you have a giant crush on flirted with you two separate times and nothing happened?”

Violet’s eyes widen, comically so. “She was  _ flirting _ ?”

From the bed across the room, Sunny lets out an exasperated yell.


	2. journal

“So,” Violet says, after a pause. “Isadora… might like me. How I like her.”

Klaus nods, painfully patronizing, but Violet sees the mirth behind his eyes. “Yes, Vi.”

“So if I asked her to be my girlfriend,” Violet continues, “she might say yes.”

“Duh!” Sunny says, which means  _ we have been over this about five times now _ .

Violet considers, fiddling with the ribbon in her hands. The velvet texture on her fingertips helps her focus. “And what if she says no?”

Klaus crosses the space between their beds to sit next to her. “What’s that thing that Oscar Wilde said?”

“The very essence of romance is uncertainty,” Violet answers. She tilts her head down, lets out a soft laugh. “I suppose he’s right.”

“Isadora’s a romantic,” Klaus says. “You could try your hand at a grand gesture of some sort.”

Klaus’ sarcasm is on point, as always, but still - the figurative light bulb turns on inside her head. 

Violet stands. “I have just the idea,” she says.

-

A couple days of frantic work and less-than-optimal disruption of her circadian rhythm, Violet has her finished project. She wakes up nearly bouncing, takes a  _ long _ shower, and then sets off to find Isadora.

The poet is sitting beneath the maple tree, legs crossed, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She’s wearing some kind of graphic tee shirt and a large purple windbreaker. It’s so cute and so  _ Isadora _ that just looking at her, Violet feels her heart nearly explode inside her chest. She reminds herself to breathe, and then makes her approach.

Isadora tilts her head up, squinting against the sunlight. “Good morning, Violet,” she says, accompanied by a cheery grin.

“Good morning, Isadora,” Violet says, sitting down next to her. “I - um, I have something for you.”

Isadora sits up straight, eyes widening. “Wow, really?”

Violet holds out the journal. “The cover is hardened leather, so you don’t have to worry about spear guns,” she says. “And the pen attached to the side - its ink cartridges are pressurized, so you can write underwater or in space, if you ever happen to be there. The pages are made from a special hydrophobic compound-”

She’s cut off by Isadora’s joyful squeak, her arms wrapping around Violet and squeezing. Her chin lands on the juncture between Violet’s neck and shoulder. “Oh,  _ thank  _ you,” she says.

Violet doesn’t hesitate to hug her back. Her heart is pounding so loud, Isadora must feel it. “You haven’t seen the inside,” she says. 

Isadora pulls back, traces the cover with reverent fingers, and then flips the journal open. Every page is empty, except the first, where a single couplet is written in dark ink. “ _ Nothing else could make me more happy _ ,” Isadora reads. “ _ Than if you would go on a date with me _ .” She looks up at Violet, smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, Violet Baudelaire, can I kiss you?”

If her heart wasn’t about to explode before, it certainly is now. “I’d like that.”

Eyes bright, Isadora brings a hand up to cup Violet’s cheek. And then they’re kissing, and it’s nothing and everything Violet had ever imagined, and so, so nice. Violet isn’t sure what to do with her arms, and Isadora’s bun unspools and gets kind of everywhere, but even then the warmth in her chest doesn’t settle.

They lean back, giggling, and Isadora tucks her hair behind her ear. “Thank you for the gift,” she says. “I would love to go on a date. More than one date, actually. All the dates, I mean, as long as you’re with me. Wow, I am  _ rambling _ .” She slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

Violet scoots back against the tree, so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder. She holds out her empty palm, and Isadora releases the hand from her mouth to hold Violet’s. Their fingers interlock. “All the dates, it is,” she says.

Isadora laughs, resting her head against Violet’s shoulder. And so, under the maple, they begin.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr! cassicillian.tumblr.com


End file.
